Little Spoon
by GabrielaF6
Summary: We spent the rest of the night spooning. I'm always the little spoon. Always.


When Malia woke up from a nightmare, she laid down, quiet and still, in her bed placed on Stiles' guest room and she counted the rhythm of his heartbeat through the walls until she calmed down and got back to sleep, but usually this didn't happen so often. Because these were the easy nights. And she never had an easy night.

Her dreams usually involved her friends bruised and battered in the woods, and her, imprisoned in the webs of a trap that had fallen from a tree, stuck in the coyote form, powerless, helpless, while a deep darkness reached them and dragged them away from her vision, and in the end all she could hear were their screams and the sound of tearing human skin, flesh and bone. She knew how it sounded. For years, she'd had to feed from people who got lost on the track, and now the guilt haunted her almost as much as the nightmares.

In other dreams, she was dominated by a bigger, more powerful energy than her, which forced her to run away and leave her friends behind so they'd be devoured by the same darkness of other dreams. The feeling that dominated her was not panic, which could be understandable. This evil invading her dreams and making guest appearances so often filled her with horror to the core, it dipped her in a freezing feeling and paralyzed her bones. Often as she gasped in bed, bathed in her own sweat, and she couldn't move, she thought: _That's it. This is how it ends. Darkness finally reached me._ But then she realized it was just her night terror coming to reach her in real life. Or sometimes it were just cramps. It was hard not to run through the woods as she did every day in the past, and she felt out of shape and uncomfortable in her own body, she felt slow and sedentary. She knew if her pack were really in danger (which could happen any time), she wouldn't be much help. That was what frightened her.

But the feeling that forced her to run away was just pure evil coming from inside her, selfishness and hostility, as if they were her enemy instead of her pack (or at least that was the word that Scott alleged, though she didn't agree). The only and first thought she could distinguish through her misty mind was: _I hope that at least Stiles is safe._

While trying to calm down, Malia clung to Stiles' image. It was him she clung to mostly, if she was being honest to herself. When she wanted to quit school, when she wanted to escape to the forest. He appeared, and her legs buckled a second after they obeyed the rational part of her brain. _Stop. Fight._

Malia only dared to peer into his room when she felt the smell of his fear through the walls. She knew what officer Stilinski said about each sleeping in their own room. But what was the matter, really? Stiles would never do anything, and she didn't attack him, too.

Well, sort of.

She snuggled into his bed and held him strong to ward off the fear of whatever it was. Once she had asked him what happened, in a whisper, and he replied he had had a nightmare.

"I know what it feels like", she said with a half smile that he couldn't see in the darkness of his room. "What came chasing you tonight?"

"My time as nogitsune." After that, she stopped asking, because she knew that experiences like that tended to always stay in memories, so she knew what he always dreamed about.

That night, when the smell hit her, she was already standing. She went inside his room stealthily and climbed into his bed. Stiles' eyes were open, waiting for her, and he pulled the blanket away so that she could cuddle herself at his side. He covered them again, and then he put his arm around her and pulled her close, inhaling her sweet scent and making sure that everything was okay. He was no longer a nogitsune. _Everything was fine. Except for Allison and Aiden._

Feeling that he was shaking, Malia hugged him to stop the tremors.

"Only two more hours to dawn", she whispered. For some reason, she had the wrong impression that the sun could chase away all evil lurking in the shadows of the night, even though she had witnessed that this was a lie. No matter how bright the sun was shining, darkness could hide anywhere, spreading into their bodies and casting its tentacles in the blackest places inside their minds, just to stay away from the light.

Sometimes Malia was scared that that was what had happened to her in the woods.

Stiles unconsciously stroked her arm.

"Everything is going to be alright."

"We really need to go to school today?" asked Malia. She always asked the same question.

"Yes, Malia, we talked about this."

They did. They talked about almost everything, actually. Every afternoon, they had small classes titled "How To Behave As A Human Being, Volume I". Even though Stiles wasn't a master in social skills, at least he distinguished the animal kingdom of urban cities.

"I hate school."

"See? You're already a typical teenager. Congratulations. Tomorrow we're going to start Volume II."

Malia rolled her eyes. She liked Stiles' optimism, but sometimes it exceeded the limits.

"I'm not a typical teenager, Stiles. Every day, I have to study for ten years of missed classes, and obviously I'm not getting into college, if I don't die before, and I have to remind myself that friends aren't food. Besides, I have to remind myself that the school is not the forest, and that..."

Stiles took her chin between his gentle fingers and lifted her face so their eyes were staring at each other.

"Shh. You'll get through this, Malia. You are brave."

 _I'm not. I'll run and leave you to die when our next enemy strikes. You, Scott, Kira, Lydia, Derek..._

Noticing the doubt in her eyes, he took courage, ignored the cold in his stomach and sealed their lips. Malia had no doubt about the gesture, and moved forward with determination. She rolled to stay on top of him and spread her hands on his chest, never breaking the kiss. Stiles sank his hands on her brown hair.

The door opened with a bang, and they heard a forced cough.

Malia pulled away quickly. Stiles began to blush and pulled the blanket to his chest.

Mr. Stilinski stood in the doorway, wearing a flannel pajamas, with an angry expression.

"Malia, go to your room. Stiles, it's time for us to talk about bees and birds."


End file.
